Inclusion key in enacting appropriate, effective alerts

They got the name right when they called it a Red Dress Alert, though it was an obvious choice. In 2010, Métis artist Jamie Black launched the long-running REDress art installation, hanging empty red dresses as a haunting symbol of vanished lives; since then, the image has stood for missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls and two-spirit people.

The meaning of that visual is fitting. When we grieve the lost and the missing, we grieve lives that disappeared into shadow, too often stolen there, out of sight of those who love them and communities that look out for them. When you think about a red dress, you think about something visible, that stands out, that is seen.

So on Tuesday, when Indigenous-led organization Giganawenimaanaanig released the final report into its exploration of a new, provincewide alert system, the very name called on a hope that no more Indigenous women and girls should ever be taken to a place where no one caring can see them.

What happens next is yet to be determined. If the province signs on to support the alert system with new legislation and resources, Giganawenimaanaanig project lead Sandra DeLaronde said they could start work implementing it in January, and have it fully operational as soon as the summer.

There’s still much to be decided about how the proposed alert would function. How it will unite relevant authorities and community groups into a whole; how it will connect sources of information and support families in their search; how the alert can fill gaps without duplicating existing work — all of this will need to be carefully examined.

The report also emphasized the importance of developing a clear and consistent protocol for when an alert will be issued; send out too many, it correctly noted, and the public will become desensitized. For an alert to maintain its usefulness, the public must know that when it arrives, it is critically urgent.

In addition, not everyone who may appear missing to some family members is in danger. Sometimes, the opposite may be true: they may be finding safety by escaping a violent relationship, leaving gang life or cutting off abusive family members. For that reason, those issuing alerts must be able to carefully assess when it is truly in the person’s best interest.

That insight, and others, stemmed from how the report was developed. To craft its assessment, Giganawenimaanaanig visited communities across Manitoba, from Winnipeg to the North. It met with families of missing women, survivors of violence, youth, elders and others ready to put their heart into protecting women and girls.

That groundwork alone deserves further reflection. In addition to the final Red Dress Alert report, Giganawenimaanaanig also released on Tuesday a companion booklet, entitled What We Heard, that gathers many of the stories, experiences and ideas participants shared in those community-based consultations.

The grassroots wisdom that bubbled up from those conversations is both beautiful and heartbreaking to read. Participants spoke about what had worked for them and what didn’t. They reflected on what they most needed. They offered viewpoints on vulnerable people that are deeply compassionate and wide-ranging, looking at issues from many angles.

Many of those stories stand as a testament to the strength of communities to lift and support each other, especially in times of crisis. But many stories also revealed frustrating barriers, particularly when contacting police. Among the most alarming is just how widely families’ experiences of filing a missing-persons report varied.

For instance, many were told to wait until their loved one had been out of contact for at least 24 to 48 hours. This is, as the report notes, currently incorrect information: police agencies in Manitoba have no such required waiting period. But if the belief persists — and if people are told wrongly — then the most critical hours for a response will be missed.

One participant got an answering machine when trying to make an urgent call. Another spoke to an officer and gave their loved one’s details, but the officer didn’t provide their name, so they struggled to follow up. One participant said police waited two weeks to act on their report, because their loved one was “known to police” and lived on the street.

This is, perhaps, the gap where an Indigenous-led Red Dress Alert is most needed. Over the years of speaking to relatives of missing and murdered women, a common thread is that many knew almost immediately when something was very wrong — even if their loved one lived with addiction, was homeless or tended to move through high-risk situations.

They knew their loved one, and their patterns. They knew when something was off. Usually, as What We Heard highlights, by the time families contact police, they have already tried tracking down their loved one using every other way they know. At that terrifying juncture, to be made to wait longer is itself a kind of trauma.

So to develop an alert system, led by Indigenous people who are also — as most participants in one Giganawenimaanaanig supported — working in consultation with police, one with clear protocols, dedicated and culturally-grounded liaisons, and supports to embrace families so they don’t feel so alone: this could close those gaps.

That has the potential to save lives, and do more than that. When a person is missing, they may be experiencing harms that do not end in death. Violence, mental-health crisis, exploitation. Every hour that they are not found and offered the invitation and support to come to a place of safety, those harms are compounding.

There is still much work to be done. Everyone, including its advocates, recognize that for a Red Dress Alert to be effective, it must be implemented carefully. But it has the potential to establish a clear path forward when Indigenous women, children or two-spirit folks go missing, a path that would reduce disparities between jurisdictions and situations.

For the sake of the lives that could be saved and protected, the province should move forward. But also for the families who find themselves living a nightmare with no certain end, without certainty or consistency on what response they will get and what support will carry them through — for them, too, we need to believe something better is possible.

melissa.martin@freepress.mb.ca